Page 25 of The Shape of my Scar (The Unbroken #1)

T hey returned just after dawn.

It had been only a couple of hours, but it felt like days had passed. The corridors still smelled of antiseptic and cold metal, and the lights hadn’t dimmed since they left.

Cormac and Callum were exactly where they had been—Cormac, stiff in his chair, arms folded tight; Callum standing, now slouched near the vending machine, holding two lukewarm coffees. Neither looked up when the others arrived.

The four walked in together—Maro, Thane, Lirian, and Zel—quiet and subdued, their steps muted by fatigue and worry.

Thane looked the worst of them. His face was still marked from Maro’s punch, his expression hollowed by something deeper than bruises.

Maro walked slightly behind, subdued for once, the usual rage absent.

Lirian’s gaze darted everywhere, calculating and uneasy.

Zel was composed but a muscle ticked in his jaw.

None of them spoke.

The first threads of daylight crept in through the cracks in the old blinds, streaks of pale pink and silver-blue slanting across the polished hospital floor.

Jac had gone out earlier for coffee. He handed one to Cormac without a word and sipped his own like it might anchor him. He still hadn’t looked anyone in the eye.

Then, a soft voice broke the silence. “Excuse me?”

A nurse in navy scrubs stood at the edge of the waiting area, holding a tablet against her chest. Her hair was tucked into a loose bun beneath a pale blue cap. She glanced around. “I’m looking for Faolan Kearney’s brother?”

The four men who owed their lives to her in ways too deep to name stilled. It felt like something time stood still. None of them had heard her full name spoken aloud before.

Cormac and Callum stepped forward, shoulders straightening unconsciously.

“She’s stable for now,” the nurse said. “You can visit her, one at a time.”

Callum hesitated, then looked over his shoulder. His gaze landed on Thane. “This is her fiancé,” he said quietly.

Thane blinked. For a moment, the words didn’t register. Then his chest clenched. He stepped forward on legs that didn’t feel like his.

Cormac’s face darkened with fury, but he didn’t speak.

Thane understood; only family was permitted and he shouldn’t be allowed in.

But Callum had given him a gift. A mercy.

The nurse led Thane through the quiet corridors, past the sliding doors into the ICU. The hallway narrowed until they stopped at a glass cubicle. Outside, on a small shelf, sat a clipboard with her name, Faolan Kearney, scrawled in blue pen.

“Maybe the fiancé wants to go in first,” the nurse said softly.

She helped him into the mask, cap, gown, and gloves. His hands trembled as he followed her in.

He hadn’t realised how small she was.

She lay in a nest of tubes—one curling from her mouth to the ventilator that breathed for her, others snaking into her arms, her chest. Her skin was pale, drained of warmth. Shadows bruised her cheeks, mottled her clavicle and the edge of her neck, where the hospital gown gaped slightly.

The beeping of monitors was soft but relentless.

A clear bag of fluid hung beside her, dripping steadily into the narrow line that disappeared into the back of her hand.

Careful not to disturb anything, he reached out. His gloved fingers brushed her palm, then gently settled there.

He traced the delicate lines in her skin with reverence.

The man who no longer believed in God—who had lost faith the same year he lost everything as a boy—prayed. Not with words, but with everything in him.

Let her come back. Please, let her come back to me.

The nurse stood at the door, giving him a minute more. Then she stepped in, and gently said, “It’s time.”

He nodded, jerkily.

As he turned, a tear slipped from the corner of his eye, soaking into the edge of his paper mask.

“She had contacts in,” he murmured, half to himself.

“Yes,” the nurse said. “We took it out. There was only one.”

He nodded and quietly left.

Cormac was already on his feet. He didn’t look at Thane as he passed, just walked straight in.

Thane stood outside, trying to breathe through the constriction in his throat.

Callum moved beside him, silent for a long time.

“Thank you,” Thane said, his voice raw.

“I’m not doing it for you,” Callum said, not looking at him. “I’m doing it for her.”

Thane nodded. He expected that.

“She talked about you,” Callum said, eyes fixed on the glass door. “Sometimes she called your name in her sleep.”

He took a slow breath. “You mean something to her. I don’t think she’s ever felt anything like that for anyone.” He finally glanced over. “I hope—for her sake—that you’re someone worth forgiving. And for yours…I hope you never stop trying to earn it.”

Thane couldn’t speak.

He just stood there, shoulders heavy, watching the pale blur of her through the glass, and silently promised her everything he had left.